


02/14

by mellowheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Past Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 23:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellowheart/pseuds/mellowheart
Summary: A Valentine’s Day fic in which Kira comes back to Beacon Hills. Why is this posted four days late, you ask? Because I suck at meeting deadlines.





	02/14

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarah and Vic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sarah+and+Vic).



_"Promise again that I would call her  
Forget the time 'cause I'm seven hours behind"_

_-7 by Catfish and the Bottlemen_

  
**_February 14, 2015_ **

_Hi, Diary - it's me, Kira._

_I haven't written in this much, have I? Haven't had much time to, with this Training In The Desert With Skinwalkers thing that's been going on; it's tiring, having to get up every morning, grab my katana, and fight for hours. For the first month or so, it was great - I missed my friends, but I finally got the chance to embrace the powers I'd been told to hide for so long. It was easy to get into the routine that was required of someone who lived with the Skinwalkers, but after a while, it becomes tedious and mind-numbingly dull:_

_ Morning _   
_-Breakfast (Dawn to sunrise)_   
_-Katana practice (2-3 hours, I think? It's hard to tell time out here)_   
_-Hunting (for lunch)_

_ Afternoon _   
_-Lunch_   
_-Practice controlling the fox spirit that's trying to possess me_   
_-Skinwalker mission stuff_   
_-Hunting for dinner_

_ Night _   
_-Dinner_   
_-Test to see if I have Mastered the Fox_   
_-Find out that I have NOT Mastered the Fox_   
_-Throw my katana at the wall in frustration_   
_-Go hunting for breakfast (if needed)_   
_-Re-read X-Men #142_   
_-Sleep_

_So, yeah. Pretty repetitive._

_The only good thing about living as a full-time kitsune is the strength, and beginning to feel somewhat comfortable in my own skin. I could never be happy here, though. Not without the people I care about by my side. The loneliness is the worst part, and it hurts even more today, because according to the calendar I have in my backpack, it's Valentine's Day. It's the first Valentine's where I've woken up to the bright sun and vast stretch of desert instead of a present and the smell of pancakes._

_Last year, I woke up to see a teddy bear and a pink envelope on my bedside table; all that was written on the front was "Malia," and I still have it:_

_**Happy Valentine's Day, Kira. I didn't want to walk through the front door, so I broke in through the window.**_

_God, I love her._

*

**_February 14, 2016_ **

**The** following year, Kira found herself walking through the front door of her home. Her actual home, in Beacon Hills, California.

            Her heart swelled the size of Mount Everest, because everything was the same; the couch rested against the same wall, the television in the living room was still on the news channel, and her favorite candle was near the entrance of the house, spreading a sweet vanilla aroma thorough the home. It all felt so familiar, and when her mother put a comforting hand on the small of Kira's back, she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face.

            Because finally, she had managed to control the fox spirit resting in the core of her soul. Whenever the realization entered her mind, triumph pumped through her veins and she found herself standing up just a bit straighter and smiling just a bit brighter; she imagined the fox spirit with a leash around its neck, sagging in defeat and funneling power through the kitsune's body with a disgruntled huff. It would roll its eyes, as if to say, _"Alright, kid, you won this round."_

_Take that, fox spirit._

            "Are you alright?" her mother asked, closing the door behind them. Her father had went out to buy groceries after their reunion; it was enthusiastic, consisting of tight hugs, tears, and laughs that ricocheted off the walls. At one point, he'd picked her up by the waist and spun her around like he did when she was a child - that's when she realized the full extent of how much she'd missed this place.

            "I'm great, I just...," Kira started, circling around the room in wonder. "I can't believe I'm back - it feels like a dream, or vivid hallucination."

            Mrs. Yukimura chuckled lightly, coming up behind her daughter and wrapping her arms around her waist. "Well, believe it, sweetheart, because you worked so hard to get here. I'm proud of you."

            Kira leaned back against the sturdy, comforting embrace and sighed, her sight trailing along the dashes of sunlight that filtered through the blinds that clung to the windows. Then she closed her eyes, welcoming the enhancement of her other senses; the mumble of the reporter of the television soothed the exhaustion in her bones, and the taste of freedom marched on her tongue.

            She let the straps of her backpack slip from her fingers and suddenly, the sand that covered her skin for a year dusted off like a short-term memory.

*

**The** first thing the kitsune did when she entered her room was rush to the mirror, because the places the Skinwalkers traveled to had no mirrors. There was glass, but it only showed a hazy image of herself, not at all helpful. She caught sight of the full body mirror immediately, a tight grip squeezed her heart in fear; Kira was already unextraordinary before, so what she expected to see reflected back at her was the same skinny, awkward girl with flushed cheeks and spots of sunburn here and there.

            She was wrong - so, so wrong.

            What she saw was a tall, tanned girl with limbs graced with toned muscle and scars; there was still a fresh wound on her right bicep, but it was bandaged with white gauze, scarlet blood staining it. Her hair was a mass of dark tangles that reached her waist, several wavy locks framing her face. The black kohl of the Skinwalkers outlined her eyes, making the brown of her irises appear sharper than usual. She gently slipped her fingers through it, and immediately encountered a knot, which would be a pain to fix. Ugh.

            Kira looked away from her reflection and turned around to scan around her room, taking in the neatly made bed, bookshelf filled with comics and novels, and stack of textbooks still on her desk, covered with dust. She stepped toward the desk and ran the pads of her fingers over the space where the title should be, revealing the blocky letters of her AP Biology textbook and leaving a streak amongst the dust. Since she left in the middle of her senior year, she was basically a high school drop out, without a diploma to take to college or the memories associated with graduation.

            The girl picked the book up with shaking hands, brushing off the dust and blinking back the tears that begged to breach from their ducts. As she flipped through the pages she’d studied for so long, she saw every opportunity slip through her fingers; all her dreams of being a surgeon - gone, just like that. Her mother would let her stay in this house until she got onto her feet again, but she would have to start over.

            When she closed the textbook, the katana strapped to her back felt a lot heavier, like even it could sense it was a burden. Kira continued to stare at everything in her room, because it was all she felt she could do, with her mind in a whirlwind of confusion and her limbs exhausted with jet lag - or car lag, technically. The car drive back to Beacon Hills was exhilarating; the rumble of the car under her feet was familiar yet foreign after becoming accustomed to sandy dunes.

            The kitsune shook her head and pinched her fingers around a hair tie she found lying on the bed sheets, fastening her hair into a ponytail before heading down the hallway and towards the bathroom.

            Because it had been a year since Kira had felt one hundred percent clean.

*

**A** strange buzzing woke Kira up from her post-shower, post-desert, in-the-middle-of-a-crisis nap. Her eyes cracked opened hesitantly, as if they hadn’t decided whether the suspicious sound was worth paying attention to; it came from right in front of her, on the bedside table.

            Her phone.

            She sat up like she had just found a pot of gold, snatching the first piece of technology she’d gotten ahold of since last year. The first text she saw was from her Mom, answering all the questions that sprouted in her mind:

_**Mom :)**_  
_**2 hr 5 min ago**_  
_While you were gone, I stopped paying your phone bill. You were asleep when I reactivated it, so I put it on your bedside table._

            Kira grinned, turning the object around in her hands and scrolling through her old text messages. The only person who’d texted her while she was gone was Stiles, a scrawny, eccentric boy who’d accidentally become her best friend; it was a long story, consisting of bumping into each other at the comic book store and getting partnered up for more than one Physics project. He was almost the complete opposite of her - loud, sarcastic, and more than willing to run towards treacherous situations. But you know what they say: geeks attract.

_**Yoda**_  
 _ **1 yr ago**_  
_Scott told me you’re going with the skinwalkers...you’re coming back, right? You can’t just walk with them **forever**_

_I mean, do you realize how sad it is to drive to Comics by myself? Do you REALIZE?_

_**Yoda**_  
 _ **360 days ago**_  
_I got partnered up with Jackson of all people and I’m convinced that it’s because of biphobia_

_He LITERALLY has a stick up his ass and it makes me want to take a dive into a pool of acid_

_Save me, Obi Wan. Only you can protect me from narcissistic douchebags_

**_Yoda_ **   
**_157 days ago_ **   
_I know you’re not here to see it, but the Deadpool trailer came out. I figured I’d send it to you anyway, because I know how much you love Deadpool_

_[YouTube link]_

**_Yoda_ **   
**_153 days ago_ **   
_I just saw Derek with Braeden and I feel like shit_

_I wish you were here :(_

**_Yoda_ **   
**_130 days ago_ **   
_Starting to think you’ll never come back, which hurts like a bitch_

_I hope you’re not feeling too lonely out there_

**_Yoda_ **   
**_100 days ago_ **   
_I miss you, firecracker <3 Your Mom said she’s gonna deactivate your phone, so I guess I’ll stop bothering you now_

  
            With a heart that was both aching and joyous, Kira texted him back:

**_Me_ **   
_Hey, Stiles! I missed you too :)_

            She was about to put her phone down when several texts popped up on the screen at once, demanding and eager.

**_Yoda_ **   
**_now_ **   
_HOLY FUCKING SHIT, WHAT_

_KIRA???!!!_

_KIRA KIRA KIRASHEHWSHSDNDN_  
  
**_Me_**  
 _HELLO_

**_Yoda_ **   
_WE HAVE TO HANG OUT LIKE NOW_

_wait no_

_Facetime Malia_

_For the love of all that is holy, FaceTime Malia bc she’s been Grump Central since you’ve left_

            The mention of her girlfriend (or ex-girlfriend, if she’d moved on already) made every inch of Kira’s skin flush red. She was a werecoyote - the only one in Beacon Hills, as far as she knew - with the prettiest smile she’d ever seen and a past darker than a starless sky; she’d lived in her coyote form for almost a decade after her family got into a car accident, and that’s exactly how Kira had found her before Scott scared her into becoming human again. She remembered how Malia had looked on that cold afternoon, the sky casting a pale blue on the scene; her hair was an entanglement of leaves, but the rest of her looked unbelievably perfect, her naked skin clear of scars or flaws. If Kira knew that the rabid coyote who’d chased her down the hallway (granted, to get her dead sister’s toy back) was as beautiful and innocent as she, the kitsune’s thoughts would’ve been a lot more forgiving in the following days.

            The first time she’d had an actual conversation with the werecoyote was a month later because it seemed she was more interested in hanging out with Stiles than anyone else - they were inseparable, those two; after everything they’d been through, with the days spent at Eichen House and Malia trying to fit into the mold the human world wanted her to stay in, she couldn’t blame them. And Stilinski was protective of anyone he knew to have a good heart in their chest, so his quick attachment to a girl who had spent eight years in an animal’s body wasn’t of surprise to the pack. Besides, Kira had Stiles, Derek, Lydia, and Allison as friends; and she had Scott as her boyfriend, so if one girl didn’t pay her any attention, it wasn’t the end of the world.

            Although Malia did pay her attention, technically - the month that passed was full of wordless interactions. There were many times where Kira would notice her staring across the room, her eyebrows etched on her face in a seemingly permanent frown. Kira would always stare back, albeit the casual front she put on every time the she-coyote was around didn’t come close to matching the heart that was doing marathons in her ribcage. She was unnerving, that girl, with that carefree gaze that took everything it wanted and more. For the longest time, Kira could tell if Malia wanted to befriend her or throw her into the nearest body of water; with the supernatural strength gifted to all were-beings, she was definitely capable of putting the latter into action.

            Like she said before - unnerving.

            Then, at some point, Malia decided Kira’s leggings were worth talking about. The pack had just finished sharing their research and strategies about how to defeat the villain that was currently terrorizing the supernaturals of Beacon Hills (a person or thing who went by the title of “The Benefactor”), and, as usual, they ordered pizza after the meeting. Kira was on her third slice, sitting at the kitchen table with her feet propped up on a chair, when Malia pushed her feet off and sat down next to her. Kira’s initial reaction was annoyance (because hey, pushing someone is rude), but then the other girl started speaking.

            “Is that Captain America?” Malia had asked, pointing a finger at the thigh of Kira’s leggings. “Stiles showed me the first movie a couple days ago.”

            Kira blinked, searching through her mind for a proper response. “Uh...yeah, all the Avengers are on these.”

            Malia tilted her head as the raven haired girl began to point out the Marvel superheroes whose images were on her clothing.

            “There’s Cap, like you said - then Iron Man, the Hulk, Black Widow, Thor, the Scarlet Witch, Spiderman, and a bunch of others. I have all the movies, if you wanna borrow them. I know we don’t have a bunch of time with the Benefactor and everything, but, uh...” Kira trailed off, looking up to gauge the other girl’s reaction.

            What she saw was the same neutral expression, with the exception of the softness she saw in her eyes. Malia’s hair was longer back then, a combination of blonde and brown that she kept in a braid that hung between her shoulder blades; if it weren’t for Lydia - queen bee of Beacon Hills High and the only banshee that lived in the town besides Meredith Walker. - the werecoyote probably would’ve kept her hair down on her shoulders at all times. She wondered if the hair she’d day-dreamed about running her fingers through looked the same. Maybe it was a different shade, or a different length; regardless, it would look perfect on Malia.

            It soon became clear that Scott McCall’s tousled hair and puppy dog eyes didn’t catch her eye as much as they used to; and although Malia wasn’t the wordiest page in the book, her one-liners and recklessness intrigued her - simple as that. Luckily, Kira didn’t have to break the news to her ex, because when he took her back to the Skinwalkers, there was a silent understanding that she could be gone for years. Perhaps their love wasn’t strong enough for a strain like that, but she cared for him enough to give him the tightest hug she could muster before she left.

            Kira sighed, slipping out of the memories that ran rampant in her thoughts. She pushed the button at the bottom of the face of her phone, waking up her screen again so she could respond to Stiles’ claim that Malia was suddenly grumpy after she’d left:

**_Me_ **   
_Really?_

**_Yoda_ **   
_Of course_

_She makes Derek look like a cheerleader_

**_Me_ **   
_Speaking of Derek..._

**_Yoda_ **   
_Don’t you dare_

**_Me_ **   
_Come on, give me the deets - has he broken up with Braeden?_

_I mean they’re cute and all but you and Der have always had that connection, you know?_

            A minute after she sent that text, her phone started ringing. She paused before answering it, wondering if she had pushed a little too hard. When it came to Stiles’ crushes, it was difficult to decipher what was a sensitive spot and what wasn’t.

            “You are _not_ going to make this conversation about me, Yukimura,” Stiles greeted. “We’re here to talk about your angsty love story, not mine.”

            “I-“

            “ _Yours_ , you hear me?” he interrupted. “Not mine. Your love story. A story that belongs to you.”

            Kira laughed and stood up from her bed, subconsciously starting to do the pacing she did whenever she talked on the phone. “Fine, you’re right - but I’m not FaceTiming Malia. I don’t even know if she knows _how_ to-“

            A voice sounded from behind her, making Kira jump so abruptly that she dropped her phone and let out a startled yelp.

            “Kira?”

            She grabbed her katana from its place on her desk, unsheathing it and whirling around to press it against the intruder’s throat. Except the “intruder” was none other than Malia Tate, whose eyes were widened to the size of saucers. The tip of the blade was inches away from the werecoyote’s throat.

            Kira cursed, dropping the katana. “Malia? What are you doing here?”

            Stiles’ frantic yelling from her phone, which had become secondary to her instincts, went silent. Then there was the _beep beep beep_ of the phone call ending. Because of course he would abandon Kira in her time of need.

            Malia gaped for a moment, her eyes flickering around the walls of the room, coming back to the window next to Kira’s bed more than once.

            _Did she...?_

           The kitsune placed a hand on her chest, trying to placate her heart rate and recover from the initial shock. “Did you climb through my _window?_ ”

            She threw her hands into the air, sighing and letting them land back on her thighs.

            “Yeah, I did,” Malia responded, never one to shy away from honesty. “Have been since you left.”

            Kira went silent, taking in her revamped appearance; processing the fishnet stockings under her usual shorts, the combat boots that replaced the sneakers she was used to seeing her wear, the letterman jacket decorated with their high school’s colors of red and white, and...

            The hair.

            Absent of the blonde streaks, Malia’s hair was a solid chestnut color, wavy and just barely touching her shoulders. Bangs swooped across her forehead, the right part of her hair tucked behind an ear.

            _Jeez, and I thought she was hot before_ , Kira thought with a heavy exhale.

            “So you’re telling me,” Kira began, brushing her thighs and clapping her hands together, “that you’ve been stalking me for the past year?”

            “Stalking your _room_ ,” the werecoyote corrected.

            She scoffed, finally resting her hands on her hips. “Sorry, my mistake - You’ve been stalking my _room_ for a year?”

            “I missed you, and well,” Malia huffed, furrowing her eyebrows into that adorable frown Kira got weak-kneed over. “Well, I was worried about you.”

_Well, I was worried about you._ Kira flushed, avoiding eye contact and allowing her hair to hang down in front of her face more than usual. After all these years, Malia Tate still knew how to make her heart race in all the right ways; she could turn her in demure, awkward mess just with casual conversation. Stiles had told her it was apart of the genetic code for Hales, and well...he wasn’t wrong. Malia had a natural charm to her - Kira’s reaction proved that statement right.

            She _almost_ hated it.

            The silence in the room was too prominent, too loud for her to bear. She had to say something, so she said the first thing she could think of that wasn’t totally awkward.

            “You cut your hair,” Kira said, her hands falling from her hips.

            Malia nodded. “Yours got longer.”

            She huffed out an affectionate laugh, rolling her eyes. And then, because the urge more and more overwhelming over the course of their conversation, she ran over to Malia and wrapped her arms around the other’s neck, pressing their lips together softly.

            There wasn’t a single sign that Malia was surprised, and then she remembered - the coyote could hear her heartbeat, could always feel the way Kira’s heart sang for her. It made her want to kiss harder, but Malia’s hands, capable and firm, held her steady.

            Her lips were as velvety soft as she’d imagined, practiced and warm and slick and _ohmygodwe’rekissing_ ; Malia tasted like the sweetest candy, which is probably why she slid her tongue over her lower lip. The other girl sighed through the kiss, removing one of her hands from Kira’s hips and caressing her cheek, a thumb circling over her cheekbone. Kira lifted her hands to card her fingers through the hair she’d written poems about during junior year, a giggle bursting out of her throat when Malia broke the kiss to pick her up. She wrapped her legs around her waist with ease and dived back into the warmth she’d gotten addicted to.

            It was _awesome_.


End file.
